Once upon a Spring morn

36

Erebus

They found themselves under a leaden sky and among sobbing women and moaning men and weeping children all standing on a bare slope leading down to a dark river, where a long and broad, gray stone quay jutted out into the ebon water.

In spite of the coin tucked in her cheek, and though she did not speak the mother language of those who come to Erebus, still Celeste had some hope of being understood, for it is said that the dead speak all tongues.

She stopped at the side of a woman and asked, “Why do you lament?”

With tears running down her face, the woman turned to Celeste and said, “Many here grieve for they are the shades of the unburied-those who died at sea or in remote fastnesses or in faraway lands, and no coins were placed in their mouths. Others of us grieve for, although we were buried, our kindred were too poor to yield up the least obolus, a mere sixth of a drachma. Hence all of us are lost souls who cannot pay Charon his fee to ferry us across the Acheron and through the Dismal Marsh and over the Styx beyond, and so we will never reach Erebus to mingle with our kindred, and none of us will ever drink of the Lethe in order to be reborn.”

Ah, so that’s what the coin is for: a ferryman’s fee.

Celeste looked about, wondering how to help, yet there were so very many shades without even a sou.

“Come, Celeste,” said Roel, “I see a boat approaching.” And so down to the jetty they went, leading the horses after, and when they reached the gray pier, although they could step onto the stone, their horses could not.

“What th-?” asked Roel, puzzled, for although the animals were willing, it seemed they could not place a single hoof on the quay.

“Ah,” said Celeste, enlightened, and she took four small coins from her purse and tucked one each into the tack of the four animals, and onto the dock she led them.

In the distance across the torpid dark water they could see the ferry approaching, and Roel said, “It seems too small to hold us and the horses, too. Yet we must reach the other side, but I care not to leave the animals behind.”

“Let us see what the ferryman says,” suggested Celeste. “Perhaps he has another craft.” On came the small boat, ebon in color, with a high prow and stern. And now they could see Charon poling the vessel. He was dressed in black robes, and a hood covered his features. Closer he came, and now they could see his withered, almost skeletal hands, yet his hood held the darkness of a moonless night, and nought of his face did they see.

He stopped alongside the pier, the top wale of his ferry level with the capstones, and with a shriveled, taloned hand he silently gestured for Roel and Celeste to board.

“Ferryman,” called Roel, “we would take our animals with us.”

Charon pointed a skeletal finger at the horses and beckoned.

“Cherie, though it will take several trips to get all across, I think the boat is large enough to accept one of our mounts. I will lead my mare aboard.” Untethering his packhorse, Roel stepped from the dock and into the boat.

Charon held out an atrophied hand, a hand rather like that of a long-dead corpse. Roel spat out the coin from his mouth and gave it over to the ferryman.

Charon then gestured at Roel’s mare and beckoned.

Roel pulled on the animal’s reins, and the mount stepped from the dock into the boat, and-lo! — the craft lengthened.

Again Charon held out a withered hand, and Roel took the coin from the mare’s tack and gave it over.

The ferryman then gestured for the gelding to board, and Celeste tossed Roel the lead from his packhorse, and he pulled the animal into the ferry, and once again the boat grew, and once again Charon demanded his due.

And in a like manner did Celeste and her horses board the craft, each time the ferry lengthening to accommodate them.

Now Charon plunged his pole down into the waters of the River Acheron, and slowly did the boat turn to leave the dock, and as they pulled away, Celeste withdrew a handful of coins from her drawstring purse, and she flung them onto the bank, and the forlorn rushed forward in a mad scramble to snatch them up.

“I just wish I’d had enough for all,” said Celeste as she watched the ruction ashore.

“Did you save six coins for our return?” asked Roel.

Celeste blanched. “Oh, love, I didn’t think of that.” Roel smiled and shook his head. “I believe we have more coin in our baggage, but if not, we’ll manage somehow.”

Beyond the width of the Acheron, Charon entered a fogbound drear marsh, and across weed-laden waters he fared, and if the torpid current of the river flowed through this foetid swamp, neither Roel nor Celeste could discern it.

Behind them, the bank of the poor and the unburied disappeared in the gray fog, and onward Charon poled.

“How can he see his course?” whispered Celeste.

“I know not, love,” Roel murmured in return, “yet it seems he does.”

Finally they emerged from the stagnant waters of the Dismal Marsh, and once again it seemed a current flowed, though slowly, as did the River Acheron.

“This must be the Styx,” said Celeste, as on Charon poled.

At last he came to another stone pier and glided to a stop alongside. And then with a gesture Charon bade them to disembark.

This time Celeste led, and onto the quay she and her horses stepped; Roel and his mare and gelding followed; and as each person or animal left the boat, the ferry shrank.

As Charon swung about and poled away, Roel said,

“A marvelous craft that, for it changes size to accommodate its passengers.” Celeste nodded and said, “I think it must be because at times-as in war or during a plague-many souls come all at once for transport into Erebus.” They trod to the end of the pier, where before them they saw a gateway, and in the opening and tethered on a long and heavy bronze chain lay a monstrous three-headed dog with a serpentine tail much like that of a Dragon.

And as they approached, the dog lifted its heads and stood and snarled, its crimson eyes glaring, and its scarlet tongues lolling in three foam-slavering jaws filled with dark and terrible fangs.

The horses screamed in terror and shied back and would have bolted but for Celeste’s and Roel’s adamant grips.

Roel called out as he struggled with his animals, “I feared ’twould be so, for I deem this is Cerberus, the guardian to the gates of Hades’ dominion, and he will not let the living pass.”

“Then what will we do?” Celeste called back, now managing to get her mare under control.

“I will take up my shield and spear and-”

“Oh, Roel, you cannot slay this creature, for then Lord Hades himself will hunt us down.”

“Then what do you suggest?” asked Roel, as he finally got his own mare under control.

Celeste thought furiously. What do I suggest? What do I suggest? How can we get past this terrible beast without killing-? “Killing! That’s it, Roel. Killing!”

“That’s what I suggested, love, and now-”

“Oh, Roel, don’t you remember what Lady Doom said?”

“She said many things, Celeste.”

“Oui, but a key thing she said was:

“Creatures and heroes and the dead Will test you along the way.

Ever recall what we Three said,

To fetch the arrow of gray.”

“Oui,” replied Roel, “I remember, but what does that have to do with-?”

“ ‘Ever recall what we Three said,’ that’s a key phrase of Lady Doom’s rede, love. And so, I bring to mind what Lady Lot said: ‘Yet this I will tell you for nought: blunt half of your arrows, for you will need them. . both to kill and to not kill.’ Roel, we did not understand what she meant when she said it, yet I deem this is a time to ‘not kill.’ Hold my horses, and I will defeat this dreadful dog.” Roel took the reins of Celeste’s mare, and she strung her bow and fetched her quiver of arrows and nocked a blunt-pointed shaft.

As she stepped forward, Roel said, “ ’Ware, cherie, for

’tis said his bite is deadly poisonous.”

Celeste paced toward the monstrous beast, and snarling, it charged, yet even as the princess flinched, Cerberus came to the end of its massive chain.

As it roared in frustration, Celeste drew the blunt arrow to the full and aimed and loosed, the shaft to hiss through the air and strike the middle head between the eyes, and that one fell unconscious. The remaining two howled and tore at the pave trying to get at her, yet the chain held, and Celeste nocked a second blunt arrow, and she let fly again, and once more the shaft struck between two of the creature’s eyes, and this time the right-hand head fell stunned.

Yet baying, the dog drew hindward a step, and again Celeste loosed an arrow, but Cerberus dodged aside, and the missile glanced off his shoulder. But the next one struck between the third head’s eyes, and the dog fell stunned, though like a deadly whip its tail yet struck out toward her in rage. Celeste moved ’round to the flank, though she remained beyond the reach of the long, Dragonlike lash. Another blunt arrow struck at the base of the tail, and it, too, fell limp.

Even as she dashed forward, she cried, “Now, Roel, before it regains its senses!”

Past the monster Roel ran with the animals, the horses snorting and shying in terror, but nevertheless following his lead. As for Roel, he cried out, his voice tight with fear, “Celeste, get away from that beast!” But even as the dog was rousing, Celeste ran to Cerberus and she snatched up her five spent arrows, and then she darted onward. The snarling monster lurched to its feet and lunged after, its fangs bared and snapping. And it missed her by a mere hand’s breadth as Celeste fled beyond the reach of its chain.

She ran to Roel, and he embraced her trembling form. And with his voice filled with distress, Roel said,

“Oh, my love, why did you do that? An arrow is not worth your life.”

“Because Lady Lot said we would need them ‘to kill and to not kill,’ and since I used them this time ‘to not kill,’ we might need all of them ‘to kill’ someone or something. I could not take the chance that we would run out of blunt arrows at a critical time.” Roel kissed her on the forehead and said, “Even so, cherie-” But he was silenced as she drew his face to hers and kissed him on the mouth.

Leaving Cerberus raging behind, they mounted up and rode on, and ’neath the dismal sky they fared in among broad plains. To the fore they saw more souls, these in aimless wandering, or so it seemed.

“We need find the Elysian Fields,” said Celeste.

“And the Hall of Heroes,” added Roel.

“Then let us ask one of these souls,” suggested Celeste.

The first one they asked looked up at them curiously.

“You are yet alive,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“We are on a quest,” said Celeste.

“Ah, like Aeneas,” said the shade. “Well, I cannot help you, for I do not know where lie the Elysian Fields.” Neither did the second soul they asked, nor the third nor fourth, nor many others. But finally one, an old-seeming man, said, “Yon”-and he pointed-“where the everlasting day is bright, where the sun ever shines down through sweet air to fall upon green grass and bright flowers and the beautiful faces of the favored. But beware the rift, for ’tis said to lead to Tartarus itself.”

“Tartarus?”

“Yes. It is the Abode of the Accursed, the pit where the very worst souls are sent after judgment. There it is where Sisyphus ever toils, and Tantalus reaches for the unattainable fig and tries to drink from the vanishing pool. There, too, are imprisoned Cronus and the rest of the Titans, and others. Deep is this chasm: it is said an anvil dropped into this abyss will take nine days and nine nights to reach bottom. And just as bottomless is the small rift nigh the Hall of Heroes, for I am advised it plummets to Tartarus as well.”

“How know you this?” asked Roel.

“I was told by Achilles himself, for he roams at times and pauses here in the Fields of Asphodel and speaks with me now and then. During twelve years of travail in our former lives, on one dark night I made his acquaintance.”

“And you are?”

“Priam, the last king of Troy.”

“I have heard of Troy,” said Roel. “Once mighty.”

“But now gone,” said Priam, and he wept shadowy tears.

Leaving the grieving shade behind, on they rode in the direction the former king had indicated. Awhile they fared under dismal skies, and off to the left they espied a great dark dwelling.

“The Palace of Hades, do you think?” asked Celeste.

“Perhaps. If it is, remember Thoth’s warning to not go there.”

“Ah, I do not plan to,” said Celeste, smiling, and on they pressed.

Finally, in the far distance ahead, they saw a glimmer of brightness, and toward this they fared. The sky grew lighter the farther they went, and finally they rode into sunshine. And all about was green grass and bright flowers and the air was sweet, just as Priam had said.

And now they could see an enormous, rectangular, white-marble building, perhaps three hundred paces in length and half that in width and some sixteen fathoms high. Soaring columns lined a broad portico, beyond which huge bronze doors marked the entrance. And below the eaves of its peaked roof, carven figures graced a wide frieze, showing chariots racing and naked men grappling with one another and throwing javelins and discuses and loosing arrows and engaging in fisticuffs and other such sporting events. To the left of the building they could see an oval track for chariot racing, and a straight track for running sprints. There was a ring for hurling the discus, and a field for the javelin throw. Nearby was an area for the standing broad jump.

Other venues for athletic events were scattered here and there.

“By the depictions above and the fields to the left, no doubt this is the Hall of Heroes,” said Roel.

“The gymnasium is enormous,” said Celeste.

“A mighty hall for mighty men,” said Roel, grinning.

On they rode, coming closer, and just ere reaching the great portico, they came to an area fenced off by a chain.

Within that enclosure yawned a rift in the ground, some six paces in length and perhaps two wide at the center.

Celeste said, “Think you this is the crevice of which Priam spoke, the one plunging to Tartarus?” They paused a moment by the chain and peered at the fissure. Celeste dismounted, and as Roel gritted his teeth to keep from telling her to take care, she leaned forward to look as the daylight shone down within.

“I see no bottom whatsoever,” she said. She turned to Roel. “It must be a way to the Abode of the Accursed.”

“Perhaps,” said Roel. “Yet let us not tarry, but enter the hall and find the black portal to the City of the Dead.”

Celeste remounted, and they rode to the steps.

And even as they alighted, one of the great bronze doors opened, and draped in the pelt of a lion, a large muscular man stepped out and said, “Seeking death, are you? Perhaps I should slay you outright.”